


Beloved

by deathkisseddean (mad_fangirl)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Cas, M/M, kinda proud of this, mention of character death in third chapter, smut in chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 00:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5436626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_fangirl/pseuds/deathkisseddean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Castiel stays in purgatory, Dean finds an old piano in the bunker and begins to play. This story follows the song through through both of their lives as a series of three timestamps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Were the Thrill that Stilled My Beating Heart

**Author's Note:**

> It was much more convenient for the Winchesters to have found the bunker before Castiel returned, so that's how it was written. It does not mess with the plot of the show or story.

Dean had been back from purgatory for a month. To say it was difficult would be an understatement. He drifted through the days, trying to act normally. He couldn’t let down Sammy. Not again. So Dean laughed, and ate burgers, and drank beer, and complained about the lack of pie, and pretended he wasn’t dying inside without Cas. But every night, the nightmares game.

They all started out the same way, with the gray-green background of purgatory. Dean and Cas sat side by side, surrounded by trees, but then again, trees were everywhere in purgatory. The area was entirely silent, except for the slight crunch of leaves as Benny shuffled around in the background. Cas looked up suddenly and broke the silence.

            “You know, I knew the second you arrived here.”

            “What?” Dean said, taken aback at the comment.

            “Yes. Time moves differently here. I had been here for months by the time you arrived. Your longing was overwhelming.”

            Dean chuckled in response. “What longing? You mean me wanting to get the hell outta here?”

            Cas’s brow furrowed in confusion.

            “No, Dean. I meant your longing for me.”

            Dean’s slight laughter trailed off as a pink tinge appeared on his cheeks. He stuttered a few times before he finally managed to string some words together.

            “Well, yeah buddy of course! You’re my best friend! Of course I’d be wanting to find you!” Dean leaned over and lightly punched Cas on the arm, but before he could pull away, Cas grabbed his hand.

            “Dean, I am an angel of the lord,” Cas’s voice had dipped dangerously low, and Dean was determined to ignore how it may or may not be affecting him. “Surely you understand that I can tell the difference between the types of longing?”

            “I-I-I-um,” Dean stuttered

            “I hear you all the time,” Cas’s voice had dropped dangerously low, “When I’m there. When I’m away. I know what you think, Dean.” Cas had moved closer without Dean noticing, and those eyes, those blue eyes, were staring right at him.

            “Cas, buddy, I think there’s something wrong with your angel mojo,” Dean chuckled awkwardly as he ran his hand through his hair.

            Cas furrowed his brow in confusion, “Dean…”

            And the next thing Dean knew they were kissing. He was kissing Cas. _Cas_. His best friend. His _male_ best friend. And all he could think was, _This is fucking awesome_. It wasn’t awkward and the noises Cas made were damn near perfect and where did Cas even learn to do that?

            A flash, and then the dream would change, and Dean, Cas, and Benny would be fighting Leviathan, slashing and cutting with their homemade weapons, doing all they could to survive.

            A flash and the scene would change again. Dean was squished between Cas and Benny, all sitting around the fire. They were laughing at something. Dean couldn’t remember what, but his eyes were watering and he clutched his stomach, doubled over with laughter. Benny had slung his arm around Dean, and was leaning onto him as he continued to laugh with his deep guffaw. And Cas, Cas had his head thrown back, his blue eyes sparkling as he laughed, carefree and unburdened for a minute. And Dean looked over at Cas, and thought, through all the dirt and blood and grit, and even though Cas hadn’t shaved for weeks, he was beautiful. Radiant. _Damn it,_ Dean realized, _I love the bastard._

            A flash and the scene would change again, and Dean would be stomping around in the makeshift shelter, glowering at everything, grabbing plants and thin pieces of wood and tearing strips of cloth off of his shirt. Cas was laying from the ground, his hand thrown over his stomach, blood seeping out from in between his fingers.

            “Honestly, Dean,” Cas was saying, “It’s not the big of a deal.” Dean humphed from where he was trying to turn the wood and leaves into a decent bind. “I’ll heal quickly. If it wasn’t for the Leviathans, I would just, as you say, use my angel mojo, and heal the wound instantly. It won’t be a problem Dean. I will be fine by the morning.”

            Dean continued his work in silence, the only sound in the shelter was the slight ripping of materials every few seconds.

            “Dean,” Cas pleaded, “Say something. Are you mad because I’m injured? I know you’re fond of this vessel, and I can assure you this won’t leave a scar.”

            Dean whipped around to face Cas, his eyes blazing, “You idiot. This isn’t about your damn vessel!” Cas flinched, his brow furrowed in confusion.

            “Then wha-”

            “It’s about you, you dumbass. You jumped in front of the dude’s frickin blade! I could’ve handled him myself, but no, you, you bastard had to jump in front of me!” Dean turned around busied himself with the binding again. Cas looked up from the ground, his eyes clouded over with hurt and confusion.

            “Dean…”

            “Dammit Cas! Don’t you understand? I’ve lost so much, so many people I love! I can’t lose you too you idiot! I can’t lose someone else I love!”

            Cas pushed himself up off of the ground, wincing slightly in pain.

            “Cas, buddy, sit down, you’re gonna-”

            “No,” Cas said, his voice firm. Cas walked over to Dean not stopping until his face was only a couple of inches from Dean’s. “Dean Winchester, you insufferable human, you love me? You love me, and you didn’t tell me?”

            “Well, yeah, I always thought you just kinda knew…”

            “You idiot,” Cas said, and then he was crashing his lips into Dean’s. They stumbled backward into a tree. “Say it,” Cas demanded.

            “Love you,” Dean mumbled against Cas’s lips. Cas pulled back, grinning.

            “Good, because I love you too.” And then they went back to kissing before the scene changed again.

            _Flash_ and Dean was decapitating a vampire, blood splattering into his face.

            _Flash_ and the scene would change again, to Dean sitting with Cas beneath the always starless sky, looking up into the blackness above them, content just to _be_ for a minute.

            _Flash_ and Dean was tangled up with Cas, the first time they rolled around on top of the trench coat, sweat glistening on their bare skin. Dean’s head thrown back in ecstasy as Cas, his Cas, used his angelic mouth to make Dean squirm and moan, and Dean realized then that this, this was what he had been missing for all those years.

            _Flash_ and the scene would change again. Dean was wandering around, setting up camp with Cas and Benny. Knowing that tomorrow, _tomorrow_ , they would all be going home.

            Dean would start to toss and turn then, knowing what was coming next.

Finally, the scene would change again. Dean and Cas would be fighting their way up to the portal. Wind was blowing hard, and Dean almost lost his footing several times. But finally, _finally,_ they would make it to the portal. For a second, as Dean stepped through, he would feel euphoric. They were going home, _home_. Everything would be okay. Sure, it might be hard to explain him and Cas to Sam, hell, it was still hard for him to understand, but it was all going to be okay. He and Cas and Benny were going home. _Everything was going to be okay_.

But then it happened. Every time the same thing. Dean would step through the portal, and reach his hand back for Cas. Cas would stretch his arm out, reaching for Dean, hope in his eyes. Then, at the last second, as Dean stretched his arm as far as he could, and Cas’s fingers brushed his, Cas would scream out “Dean!” The heartbreak in his eyes as the portal closed was always the last thing Dean saw before he woke up in a cold sweat.

***

Most nights after Dean woke up, he was able to roll over and go back to sleep, letting the nightmare replay, over and over and over again. But tonight, Dean was not going to be able to sleep again. He had tossed and turned for hours. All he saw when he closed his eyes was Cas’s face in those last two seconds. His blue eyes, his beautiful, piercing blue eyes, staring at Dean, the betrayal obvious in his face. Dean couldn’t take it anymore.

He swung his feet out of bed, barely acknowledging the cold wood against his feet. Dean needed and outlet, some way to release some of the feelings he had bottled up inside. Dean carefully opened his door, shutting it quietly, not wanting to wake Sam. He walked down the hallway, not bothering to count the doors as he passed. Dean knew the path by heart.

He pushed open the door at the end of the hall and walked inside. Of all the rooms in the bunker, this one was Dean’s favourite. It was simple, almost barren. A few couches and loveseats sat along the room’s walls, and an old bar sat in the corner of the room. Dean had found a few good bottles of whiskey in the bar, but they were all long gone. A thin layer of dust covered the couches and bar. In fact, the only thing free of dust was the grand piano sitting in the middle of the room.

Dean had taken good care of the piano. After he had done everything he could to fix up the impala, Sam had done a terrible job of taking care of his baby, Dean had needed a new project. Anything to keep his mind off of Cas. So he found the piano. There had been so much dust when he had first saw it, he didn’t know if it would even be possible to clean it. But Dean stuck with it, and after a few days of hard work, the piano was gleaming again. Then the hard part had begun. No one had played the piano in years. The whole thing needed to be retuned, and it wasn’t like he could hire some random person to show up at the bunker. Dean took a trip to the local music store, and bought some books and tools. Within a week, he had the piano singing like new.

Now, whenever Dean needed an escape, he played. Tonight was no exception.

Dean padded into the room, and flopped down onto the piano bench. He rubbed his hands on his pants a few times before he began to play.

_“I know it’s over_

_My heart will never know another lover_

_We two shall never share another breath_

_My will has faded_

_This longing it's an unrelenting torture_

_Oh mercy take me know to my beloved’_

Dean’s voice filled the air. The melancholy sound of the piano accompanied his voice, clear and firm. The music cut through the air, seeming to fill the whole room. Dean continued on.

_“You were the thrill that stilled my beating heart baby_

_You are the one I'll dream the most…”_

Dean was so focused on the music, he didn’t even noticed his playing had woken up Sam, who had come walking down the hall in search of the noise.

_“But if I cannot have the real thing_

_I'll gladly settle for your ghost_

_And you can haunt these halls_

_All you want_

_And if I ever leave_

_I will take you with me”_

Sam leaned against the doorway as Dean sang, shocked by the emotion in his voice. Dean, who was always so strong, who had survived forty years in hell, was hurting.

_“Da-da da-da da-da da dum_

_Da-da da-da da –da da Cas_

_Da-da da-da da-da da-da da dada-da_

_This thing that beats_

_Is the one thing that keeps us apart_

_Well they say to say goodbye_

_But I’d surely rather die_

_From my broken heart”_

As Dean sang the last note of the line, Sam could hear the pain that filled his voice. There had always been chemistry between Dean and Cas, but apparently their relationship had deepened in purgatory. No wonder Dean had seemed a bit, _off_ , since he had returned. Sam stood in silence as Dean launched into the last verse of the song, his voice barely more than a whisper.

_“You were the thrill_

_That stilled my beating heart baby_

_You are the one I'll dream the most_

_But if I cannot have the real thing_

_I'll gladly settle for you ghost_

_I'll gladly settle for you ghost”_

As the last note rang out, Sam turned around and slipped back into his room. It wasn’t his place to intrude on Dean’s pain, but made a mental note to bring Dean burgers and pie in the morning.

Dean carefully closed the lid of the piano, and leaned onto it, placing his head into his hands. His fingers felt a slight dampness on his face, and when he flicked his tongue out to lick his lips, he tasted salt. Dean hadn’t realized he’d been crying. As he sat at the piano, breathing in the quiet, silent tears continued to stream down his face.

Dean didn’t know how long he stayed at the piano. He had long since run out of tears. Dean pushed himself up and walked back to his room. He collapsed onto his bed, falling into another restless sleep, filled with images of Cas.

***

 

Dean walked into the bunker library. Sammy, the nerd, was already seated at the long table, his nose in his laptop.

“Mornin’ Sammy.”

Sam looked up, giving Dean his trademark bitch face.

“Dean, it’s past one already. I don’t think that qualifies as morning.”

Dean waved him off and started toward the kitchen, probably in search of food. As Dean reached the doorway Sam called out after him.

“Hey, there’re burgers and pie in the kitchen!”

Dean turned around, a look of surprise on his face, that quickly changed to a quizzical expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sam started. “Do I have to have an excuse to do something nice for my brother?”

Dean gave him a skeptical look. “Sammy, you forget you’re a terrible liar. C’mon dude, what’s up?”

Sam sighed and looked at his computer. “We got a wendigo case.”

“Okay, and?”

Sam looked up, making his bitch face once again. _His face is gonna get stuck like that one day,_ Dean thought.

“The case is in Florida.”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaimed. “I hate Florida! Freakin old people are a menace, none of them should be driving! And do you know how hard it is to get any information out of the old bats?”

Dean’s complaining faded as he walked toward the kitchen. Sam went back to his computer, a smug look on his face. _Not bad, Winchester,_ he thought, _not bad at all_.


	2. You Are the One I'll Dream the Most

It had been a tough hunt. A couple of shifters. One was difficult enough to deal with, but two? Two were hell.

It had started a few days ago. Sam had happily bounced into Cas and Dean’s room, his nose buried in his laptop.

“Dean, I think I found something. A news station in South Iowa was reporting-”

“Dude!” Dean yelled as he sat up in the bed, shifting the covers around to make sure he and Cas were fully covered. “A little privacy please?” Cas just grumbled and snuggled closer to Dean.

“Dean, this is one of the tamest things I’ve seen you and Cas do. Remember when we were undercover at that resort in California? I will never get that image out of my head.” Sam shook his head at the memory. “But this, this is kinda sweet. I mean, god knows you and Cas wasted enough time.”

“Sammy-”

“No, Dean. Listen. After Cas got back from purgatory, there was Naomi, then Metatron, and then the dozens of other things. And through it all, I had to watch you and Cas have glorified,” Sam gestured up and down at Dean and Cas with his hand, “eye sex. Do you know how scarring that was?”

“Is there a point to all this?” Dean grumbled.

“Yeah, basically, it’s nice to see you guys finally being together. After all the shit you went through, it’s nice.”

Cas snuggled closer to Dean, and Dean reached a hand down to run his fingers through Cas’s hair.

“I guess you’re right Sammy.” Dean glanced down at Cas, who had wrinkled his face up adorably. He sighed contentedly at the movements Dean’s fingers were making in his hair, and attempted to snuggle even closer. Dean chuckled under his breath, and Sam smiled contentedly. After a couple of seconds, the silence started to feel awkward, and Dean cleared his throat

“So, Sammy, was there a point to this visit, or did you just come by to talk about feelings and crap?”

Sam made his bitch face before speaking. “There’s a case in southwest Iowa. Looks like a shifter. Four people dead already. We leave in three hours.” Sam turned and walked out of the room, his nose back in his laptop. As soon as the door shut, Cas lifted his head up.

“Can we go back to cuddling now?”

***

As promised, Dean was driving the Impala down the road three hours later. Cas was riding shotgun, watching the scenery as it flitted past the windows, and Sam was crammed in the backseat, his knees almost up to his chest. Every time Dean checked the rearview mirror, Sam was making his trademark bitch face. Dean just laughed, turned up the music, and interlaced his fingers with Cas’s as he sang along.

***

Five hours later, Dean pulled into the Super 8 motel in Clarinda, Iowa. As Sam trudged off to book a room, Dean got out of the car and leaned against the trunk of the impala. A few seconds later, Cas joined him.

“Damn, I could use a drink.”

“Dean, it is not even five o’clock.”

Dean chuckled, “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

“I don’t understand what the relative times of different locations has to do with the acceptable social constructs in which you should be drinking.” Cas’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Cas, no. Baby, that’s not how it- it was just a saying, it-never mind.”

Cas nodded his head in agreement, and Dean laced their fingers together. They stood in comfortable silence, watching cars on the road in front of them, until Sam returned.

“So, apparently there’s some big convention in town, and most of the rooms are booked. The guy would only rent me one room, with two double beds.”

“Dude,” Dean interjected, “We haven’t shared a room since Cas and I……”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam ran his fingers through his hair, “we’re going to have to talk about sleeping arrangements.”

“Well, it seems quite simple,” Cas said, “Sam, you will take one bed, and Dean and I will take the other, and we will avoid engaging in any sexual activities while we are in such close proximity to you.”

 Sam’s face immediately turned a bright red, and Dean coughed and turned away, trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, Cas,” Sam said, ducking his face down and clearing his throat, “that seems like a pretty good arrangement.”

***

As soon as they got into the room, Sam went to work, throwing his duffle onto his bed, pulling out a local map, and diving into research. Dean flopped onto his bed with a bounce and grabbed the TV remote. As he clicked the TV on, he looked up at the doorway, where Cas was still hovering awkwardly.

“Cas,” Dean barked.

Cas jumped and looked up. “Yes Dean?”

“What are you doing?”

“I am standing in a doorway Dean. I thought that was obvious. Do you need to have your eyes checked?”

Sam, still seated with his laptop, snickered loudly at Cas’s remark.

Dean glared, and continued. “No Cas, I mean, Why are you standing in the doorway?”

“Dean, I am not sure what I am supposed to be doing. You said it was traditional to christen each motel room by engaging in sexual activities with one’s significant other, but we assured Sam we would not participate in such activities while he was present.” Sam suddenly came down with a very loud coughing fit.

“Dean,” Cas continued, “What am I supposed to do?”

Dean shot Cas an impish grin and wiggled his butt into the bed. “Come over here and cuddle.”

Cas nodded his head tersely in agreement and walked over to Dean’s bed, where he immediately managed to curl up into a ball with Dean.

***

After three hours of Doctor Sexy MD, two beers, and one very close call in which Dean and Cas almost christened the room and Sam had threatened to dump cold water on them, Sam jumped up from his spot with the laptop.

“I’ve got it!” Sam exclaimed. “I’ve figured out the pattern!”

Dean and Cas disgruntledly pulled apart, and Dean scratched his head, trying to dispel the sleepiness. “So what’s the connection, Sammy?”

“Every victim had visited the local coffee shop, umm, _Brewed Awakenings_ ,” Sam smirked at the name. “But as far as I can tell, that’s the only similarities. Men, women, old, young, tall, short; every single victim has been different. Guess this shifter’s going through a bit of an identity crisis.” Sam chuckled at his own joke.

“Okay, so when do we get to gank this son of a bitch?”

“Dean, it’s eight. The coffee shop is closed already. So unless doctor Sexy managed to magically give you more information than what I’ve told you, there’s nothing we can do to until tomorrow.”

“So, does that mean we have time to find a bar?” Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“What,” Sam scoffed, “and have to listen to you and Cas drunkenly paw at each other? No thanks, Dean.”

Dean grumbled in annoyance.

“And besides, we should really get some sleep. The shop opens at five. In the morning. And we need to be there early.”

The boys all went about their nightly routines, Dean somewhat disgruntledly, and even with the three of them sharing one bathroom, they were all finished by eight thirty. Sam crawled into bed immediately, and grabbed his book and booklight, which Dean had bought him for Christmas last year because he couldn’t “deal with that god damn light on at three a.m.”. As Sam clicked off the room’s light, Cas crawled into his own bed.

“Dean, it is too cold. Come here.”

Dean, who had been standing by the bathroom door, traipsed over to the bed and crawled in next to Cas, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like “I’m not goddamn eighty,” but within ten minutes, both Cas and Dean were snoring peacefully. An hour later, Sam clicked off his booklight and rolled over, lulled to sleep by familiar sound of Dean’s snoring.

***

When Sam’s alarm went off at four-thirty in the morning, he was already out on a run. That meant that Dean had to get up, because there was no way in hell Cas was going anywhere, and attempt to locate Sam’s damn alarm. After five minutes of searching for the thing, Dean finally managed to find it shoved behind the coffee pot (Sam was a freaky bastard), and clicked it off, but after that search there was no way he was going back to sleep. Instead he turned on the shower, waiting for the steam to fog up the bathroom, before nudging Cas awake and herding him into the bathroom. Dean managed to wrestle the irritatingly sleepy angel out of his clothes, and shoved Cas into the shower, hoping he would actually clean himself, and not just stand under the water.

Five minutes later, Dean had managed to coerce the crappy motel coffee machine into working, and a very noticeably wet Cas came stumbling out of the bathroom. He had managed to redress himself, complete with _all_ of his clothes, and the trenchcoat stuck to his wet skin in ways that were purely adorable. Dean chuckled and reached out a hand, holding a styrofoam cup filled with coffee. Cas sidled over, and attempted to figure out a way to simultaneously snuggle into Dean’s neck and drink his coffee. When it became clear that that wasn’t possible, Cas settled for downing the coffee and then snuggling into Dean. Dean just laughed and stroked his hair.

When Sam returned from his run at four-fifty, he glanced up at Dean and Cas, who hadn’t moved since Cas got out of the shower.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower. When I’m done we should leave,” Dean gave Sam an acknowledging nod, and Sam walked toward the bathroom. “Oh, and Dean? Put some pants on.”

Twenty minutes later and Dean was pulling the impala into the parking lot of _Brewed Awakenings_. As the three of them climbed out of the car, Dean turned to Sam.

“So we’re basically just going to stake out the place? All day?”

Sam looked up, irritated. “Yeah, Dean, I explained this all before we left. We’re all going in. I’ve arranged for us to talk to the owner. Basically, we’re going to stake this out in shifts. Simple enough for you Dean?”

Dean made a face and pushed into the coffee shop. The place was modern; lots of neutrals in soft colors with various shades of blue thrown in. Tables filled the whole room, most of which had some sort of outlet near them.

Dean barged up to the counter and pulled his fake FBI badge out of his pocket.

“Hi, I’m agent Bones, and these are agents Hyland and Stills,” Dean gestured at Sam and Cas as he spoke. “We’ve been investigating the recent murders, and every victim was at this coffee shop the day they were killed. We’re going to need to need observe your clientele.”

The blonde girl at the counter popped her gum. “Have it your way.” Sam, Dean, and Cas turned to get themselves situated when the girl called back, “But you have to buy a coffee an hour, store policy.”

Dean turned around and glared at the girl, and slapped a twenty on the counter. “This ought to cover it. We’ll take two coffees, black, and one whipped froufrou thing with all of that nonfat no carb bullshit.” The girl punched in their orders while the three boys walked over to a table.

“So,” Sam began, “I think Cas should take the first shift, because, honestly, with his suit and rumpled trenchcoat, he looks like a business man up at the crack of dawn.”

Dean looked at Cas, who nodded his head in agreement.

“Alright, then. Sam and I will be outside, watching for anything suspicious. Anything weird happens text me,” Dean paused for a second, “or Sam.”

“Dean, this is not the first case I have worked. Do I need to remind you that I existed for millennia without you?”

“I know, babe, but you got to admit,” Dean smirked, “I make things much more interesting.” Before Cas could reply, Dean leaned over and pecked him on the lips, slapping Cas’s ass before he retreated out the door.

***

After Cas’s shift ended at nine, Sam went in, now in workout clothes, and stayed till twelve, reading on his tablet. Dean stayed for the next three hours, posing as a bored business man. Sam and Cas both started placing bets on how many pastries Dean would have eaten by the end of the three hours.

Nothing happened until the last hour, while Dean and Cas were posing, highly successfully, as a couple.  They were huddled up in a corner booth, Dean teasingly trying to coerce Castiel into buying him yet another pastry as they held hands under the table.

“Dean, I know you have no worries about your health, but I think you have already bought more than enough pastries. I’m sure this establishment would like the opportunity to sell to some other patrons.”

“But Cas, have you tasted their chocolate chip muffins? I mean, I don’t know what you ate in heaven bu-”

“Dean, shhhhhh”

“Cas, I swear they are-”

“Dean, I am trying to direct your attention to the man currently following the girl in the flowered dress out of the store!”

“Oh, shit!”

***

Five minutes later, Dean pulled the impala up in front of a large, Victorian house. As, Dean parked the car, the girl in the flowered dress disappeared into the house.

“So, what now Sammy?” Dean asked as he turned around in his seat. “We followed the girl to her house, the creepy dude is nowhere to be seen, and it’s still daylight out. So what do you suggest doing?

“Waiting, Dean,” Sam sighed in irritation, “I know patience isn’t in your everyday vocabulary, but we’re gonna have to wait until the shifter shows again before we can do anything.”

Dean grumbled under his breath and sunk farther down into his seat. It was going to be a long day.

***

By seven o’clock, Dean was fidgeting. Just sitting in the car for an hour and a half was starting to drive him insane. By eight o’clock Dean was constantly trying to climb into the back of his car. Castiel, who had apparently retained the ability to meditate so completely he seemed to turn to stone, was no help at all to Sam, who had the unfortunate job of keeping Dean separated from his boyfriend. By nine o’clock even Sam was beginning to feel hungry. Dean’s constant talking about his favourite burgers and pies wasn’t helping Sam to ignore his stomach. By ten o’clock, Dean had fallen asleep on the window. Sam was still sitting in the front, attempting to sip the last dregs of coffee out of a cup that had long since been emptied. Cas was still meditating in the backseat.

Nothing happened until eleven-sixteen. Sam was running his fingers through his hair, trying to ignore the sleepiness and hunger, when the scream rang out. Dean immediately jerked awake, banging his head on the horn in the process. Cas calmly opened his eyes in the back seat.

“Please tell me that was you, Sammy,” Dean groaned.

“Nope,” Sam replied as he threw open his car door. Sam led the way up the path, sprinting toward the house’s door, trusting that Dean and Cas were behind him.

Together, they burst through the front door, skidding to a halt in the front hallway. Dean’s eyes quickly assess the situation. The girl in the flowered dress huddled at the end of the hallway, cowering between the wall and a china cabinet. There were a couple of doorways on the left; Dean guessed that they probably led to a dining room, and a staircase was on the right. The three of them exchanged a glance, and Sam sprinted up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time, while Cas hurried through the doorway on the left. Dean rushed over towards the woman, dropping into a crouch beside her.

“Hey,” he asked gruffly, “Are you hurt?” When the girl shook her head, Dean continued, “Do you know where he went?”

The girl just stared up at Dean with wide eyes. Damn. Clearly this was going to take more than just asking nicely.

“Hey!” Dean prompted, shaking the girl gently by her shoulder. “Snap outta this! I can’t help until you tell me what happened!”

“Help?” The girl mumbled. Apparently something had finally gotten through that thick curly hair of hers.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, “I’m here to help. What’s your name?”

“R-Rachel”

“Hi, Rachel, I’m Dean. Can you tell me what happened?”

Rachel blinked a couple of times and nodded her head.

“I- I- I was upstairs and I heard some banging down here,” Rachel closed her eyes and rubbed her creased forehead before continuing. “I went down to see what was going on and-” Rachel’s gasped and her eyes widened, “Oh, god! Beth! Where’s Beth?” Rachel clutched at Dean’s jacket, using it to pull herself closer.

“Woooaah,” Dean said, attempting to detach Rachel, “Who’s Beth?”

“My roommate!” Rachel gushed, her voice breathy with panic. “When I came downstairs this guy had her and she was struggling so I ran over to help but he pushed me and I hit my head and I must’ve blacked out because the next thing I knew you were here!”

Dean took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, his voice gruff. “Where could he have taken her?”

“I-I don’t know,” Rachel sniffed. Her lower lip started to tremble, and Dean’s eyes widened.

_No crying_ , he thought. _If she starts crying we’re never going to get anywhere._

“Rachel!” Dean snapped. “We don’t have time for this! If you wanna help Beth, you need to tell me where he might be RIGHT NOW!”

Rachel sat up straighter and blinked a few times, then she nodded her head. “Basement. If he’s still here the basement would be the best bet.”

“Where?” Dean asked, already getting to his feet. Rachel scrambled up after him and pointed to a door set under the staircase.

“There.”

Dean walked over toward the door. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, he turned around to look at Rachel.

“Stay here. No matter what you hear, do not open that door.” Dean turned back around, not waiting to hear Rachel’s response, and pulled a silver blade out of his pocket before opening the door.

The basement wasn’t dark, but it was heavily shadowed. Dean crept down the first few steps, lingering close to the stone wall. Above him, the door opened and Rachel slipped inside. Dean looked up and gestured forcefully toward the door, but Rachel just shook her head and walked down to Dean.

 Dean rolled his eyes and continued down the steps, walking slowly to avoid any creaking. The basement was littered with stacks of boxes and tool shelves. The area near the bottom of the stair was the clearest, with only a few shelves pushed up against the staircase and a couple of stray boxes pushed against the wall. The rest of the room was a cluttered rack. Boxes and bins littered the room in stacks as tall as Dean, and bookshelves were haphazardly scattered throughout the room. The result was a convoluted maze with many irregular corners.

Dean sighed as he stepped off of the bottom step. This wasn’t going to be easy. With so many corners, the shifter and the girl could be anywhere. Dean started forward, carefully checking behind the first few stacks of boxes. Rachel followed close behind as Dean made his way through the basement.

As Dean looked around the next corner, he heard a quiet moan from a few feet away. He turned to look at Rachel, who mouthed “Beth” at him. Dean nodded and quietly hurried over to the next corner.

Beth, Dean realized, was none other than the blond barista from the coffee shop. And, he noted, she had certainly seen better days. Beth was bound to a folding chair. Her wrists were tied to the metal on either side of the chair, and her feet were tied together with a piece of rope. Beth was slumped forward, her long blond hair covering her face. Dark red blood was soaked through the bottom of her hair, and what little of her skin Dean could see was a worrisome gray color.

Dean rushed over and knelt down next to Beth. “Hey. Hey!” Dean lifted Beth’s head up, “Are you okay?”

Beth didn’t respond, and Dean bent over to slice the rope holding her left wrist. As he moved over to cut the other rope, something glinted from behind one of the boxes.

“Rachel,” Dean directed, “Untie her legs and wrist. I’m gonna go see what this is.”

Dean walked over to the box and crouched down. As he looked at the mess, Dean’s face wrinkled in a grimace. It seemed the shifter had already shifter. A pile of skin and other stuff Dean didn’t even want to think about was hidden behind the box, and _oh gross_ there was even a trail of…something from where all of the stuff had been pushed into the pile.

“It looks like we’re too late,” Dean said, brushing his hands on his pants. He stood up, about to turn around. “Rachel, see if you can get Beth to-”

Dean stumbled back as Beth’s first collided with his face. “What the hell?!”

Beth walked forward toward Dean, her hips swaying as she went. She had obviously recovered from whatever had happened.

“Do you know what the worst part of this whole thing is?” Beth drawled. “You stupid hunters always show up!” Dean struck out at Beth with his knife. Beth dodged the blow, and kicked out at Dean, colliding with his chest. “And you ruin everything! I mean, all Rach and I wanna do is hang out, get a job, and maybe commit a couple murders!”

Dean rushed at Beth, taking her down to the ground. He kneeled on top of her legs, pinning her to the ground, and repositioned the knife in his hands. As he lifted the knife to strike at Beth, Rachel screamed and ran at Dean, knocking him off of her.

Beth got up and walked toward Dean, who was currently trying to fend off Rachel as she straddled his chest and scratched at his face. Beth picked up the discarded knife and stood over Dean. “You stupid hunters,” Beth said, as she placed her foot on Dean’s crotch. “Why won’t you just Leave. Me. Alone!” Beth pushed her foot down harder with every word.

Dean groaned. The girl just had to be wearing heals. She was a damn barista for god’s sake! Dean took a deep breath and rolled his shoulder against the ground. He reached his arms up around Rachel’s, grabbed her head, and slammed her into the floor. Above him, he heard the door bang open.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, and Dean heard two sets of footsteps running down the stairs.

Beth whipped her head around to look up at the stairs, and Dean used the distraction to his advantage. He knocked Beth’s leg off and sprung to his feet, landing a bow to Beth’s face. As Sam and Cas appeared at the bottom of the stairs, Rachel jumped onto Dean’s back and bit down onto his ear.

“Crazy Bitch!” Dean yelled as twisted around, attempting to get Rachel off of his back. Sam ran over to help, and Cas went to handle Beth. Dean turned all of his attention to Rachel.

Rachel sprung at Sam with all the ferocity of lion. She sunk her nails into his face, and shoved Sam back into the wall, slamming his head against it with a crack. Dean grabbed Rachel around the middle and pulled her off of Sam, who slumped to the ground clutching his head. As Rachel kicked and screamed in an attempt to free herself, Dean grabbed another knife out of his jacket. He threw Rachel on the ground and kneeled on top of her, pinning her arms and legs to the ground. Dean sliced into her throat, listening as her screams turned into a weak gurgling noise. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of Dean’s silver blade as he sawed off the rest of her head.

Dean struggled to his feet and looked around the room. Beth was frozen in horror, staring at Rachel’s severed head and body at Dean’s feet, and Cas was sitting on the ground a few feet away from her, panting from exertion. Sam was still slumped against the wall, but Dean could see that his breathing had returned to normal, and his eyes were open.

“No,” Beth mumbled, backing slowly away. “No no no.”

No one else in the room moved. Beth’s eyes had lost their clear focus, and instead looked bone chillingly crazy. Her hair had come undone, she was hunched over, and sweat and dirt covered her skin. The quiet of the room was finally ended when Beth opened her mouth.

“NOOOOO!” she shrieked. “NOOOOOO!” Beth turned to look at Dean. “You killed her!” she continued to scream. “YOU TOOK HER AWAY FROM ME! I LOVED HER! SHE WAS MINE AND YOU KILLED HER!”

Dean stood in silence, mouth gaping open. He’d known shifters were crazy, but not that crazy.

“Well it doesn’t matter,” Beth continued, “if I can’t have my love, yOU CAN’T HAVE YOURS!”

Dean figured out what Beth was going to do a second before it happened. Beth sprng at Cas, Dean’s original knife clutched in her hand. As her knife sunk into Cas’s chest, Dean ran at her, knocking her away from Cas and onto the ground.

Dean dropped to his knees next to Cas, letting his blade clatter to the ground as he grabbed Cas’s head in his hands.

“Cas? Cas, baby? Cas? Answer me!”

Cas looked up into Dean’s eyes. Sweat caked his brow and his skin was clammy. Behind him, Dean could hear Beth whimpering as she dragged herself toward Rachel’s body.

“I will be fine, Dean,” Cas said, ragged breaths interspersed between his words. “I will simple require some stitches,” Cas shifted and groaned, “and a few hours to fully heal.”

Dean nodded and Cas reached up to touch his face. “Now finish this Dean, I would like to go home.”

Dean stood up and turned around. Beth sat on the ground, supporting herself against Rachel’s body. Blood had soaked through her clothes and streaked her face. In her hands, she clutched Rachel’s head to her chest, tracing the lines of the face, leaving blood behind as she slid her fingers over Rachel’s lips.

Dean walked toward Beth, the sound if his footsteps contrasting sharply with Beth’s hushed whimpers and moans. As he came to a stop in front of her, Beth looked up.

“Do it,” she hissed through her teeth. “Without her, nothing matters.”

No one moved, and the room was eerily quiet.

“DO IT!” Beth screamed.

Dean dropped to his knees in front of Beth, ignoring the blood soaking through his jeans. Beth placed the head beside her legs, running her fingers over Rachel’s matted hair as she hummed. Dean grabbed Beth by her hair and yanked her hair back. Beth paid no attention and closed her eyes, humming a quiet tune. Dean leaned close to her ear. He could smell the metallic blood and sweat that covered Beth.

“This is for Cas,” Dean whispered, and he sunk his blade into Beth’s heart.

Beth’s humming dwindled into a final gasp, and her body went limp. Her hand slid off Rachel’s hair, and her body slide to the floor with a quiet thump.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the boys labored breaths, but then Dean pushed himself up and rushed over to Cas.

“Hey, hey?” Dean asked, gently grabbing at Cas’s face. “How’re you doing?”

Cas coughed with a grimace and looked up. “I will be much better once this knife is removed.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Dean nodded, looking into Cas’s eyes. “Sammy!”

Sam pushed himself up from his spot on the ground and hurried over to Dean. “Is he gonna be okay?” Sam asked. “With his grace not at full power…….” Sam trailed off.

“I can assure you,” Cas said, taking a ragged breath, “that my decreased grace will be more than enough to heal this.”

“Okay,” Dean muttered. “Okay. Umm. Yeah. Sammy,” Dean said, not looking away from Cas, “Go get the med kit out of the Impala and bring it back down here. While you’re at it, see if they have any whisky upstairs.” Dean grabbed the keys out of his jacket and held them out to Sam. “Hurry,” he croaked.

As Sam’s footsteps pounded up stairs, Dean ran a hand through Cas’s hair.

“Hey,” Dean said, “Cas, baby, look at me.”

Cas opened his eyes and glared at Dean. “Is this satisfactory, Dean?”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your sunny disposition.”

“Excuse me for being less than pleased about the fact that I have been stabbed yet again,” Cas grumbled, his breath hitching slightly on the last word.

Dean sobered at the sound, whatever laughter had been in his eyes disappearing. “You need to lay down. Here.” Dean slipped off his flannel, crumpled it into a ball, and grimaced. “It’s a little bloody, but it’ll have to do.” Dean slid an arm around Cas’s shoulders and helped guide him to the ground, making sure Cas’s head was sitting firmly on the flannel.

“How’re you doing?” Dean asked, his hand carding through Cas’s hair.

“I will be better as soon as the knife is removed and I can begin to heal,” Cas grimaced.

“I wish I could take it out now. I hate seeing the damn thing stuck in you, but we can’t risk you loosing too much blood before Sam gets back.”

Cas’s mouth curled up slightly at the corners. “You didn’t used to mind see sharp objects protruding from my vessel. If I remember correctly, and my memory is infallible, the first time we met you stabbed me with the same blade you have stuck through your belt loop.”

Dean chuckled. “Sparks literally flew.”

Cas shifted his shoulder closer to Dean, and hissed in pain.

“Cas, don’t.” Dean said. “You have to stay still. Moving will only make it worse.”

“It’s not moving that’s causing the pain,” Cas hissed, “it’s this infernal blade.”

“I get it, but you have to leave it in for just a bit longer.”

“It is highly uncomfortable. Every time I move in the slightest I can feel it digging farther in.”

“Cas just,” Dean sighed, “Don’t fidget. Sam should be back any second.”

“Good. Then there is no need for this blade to stay in for any longer.”

“Cas, just, wait!” Dean shouted as Cas reached down, grabbed the blade by it’s hilt, and roughly pulled it out.

“Dammit Cas!” Dean yelled. The blood stain on the front of Cas’s shirt started to grow rapidly, crimson quickly overtaking the pure white. “You idiot!” Dean growled, turning towards the door. “Sam! SAMMY!”

Dean turned back to Cas, and placed his hands on Cas’s chest, applying pressure to the wound.”

“Dean, I do not think you-”

“I swear to god Cas,” Dean hissed, “I will never speak to you again if you do not shut up and hold the fuck still right now.”

Cas glared as Sam burst through the door above.

“Dean!” he shouted as he ran down the stairs, “I was looking for whiskey, what the hell happened?”

Dean didn’t look up from his position on the floor. “The idiot pulled the damn knife out. Do you have the kit?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered, dropping to his knees beside Dean, “but I didn’t have time to find any liquor.”

Dean gritted his teeth. “No time now.” Sam fumbled through the kit, and Dean hurriedly unbuttoned Cas’s shirt. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch.”

Dean grabbed the needle, already threaded with dental floss, and went to work. No one spoke as Dean slowly stitched. Despite the angry look on his face, Dean’s hands were nothing but gentle. Sam cringed when he saw how deep the wound really was. Cas only winced slightly when the needle first pierced his skin. Dean pulled the needle through Cas’s skin a final time and carefully tied the end of the dental floss off. Sam packed the supplies back into the kit.

It was painfully quiet as Sam and Dean hauled Cas up, throwing his arms around their shoulders. The walk up the stairs went at a snail’s pace, and Sam fidgeted uncomfortably at the heaviness in the air. Eventually they managed to get Cas back to the impala. As Sam opened the back door, Cas slid in. As he reached for his seatbelt, Dean broke the silence.

“Lay. Down.”

Cas looked at Sam, who shrugged, and decided it was easier to comply than argue. As soon as Dean saw Cas’s head hit the seat, he turned on his heel and stormed back towards the house. Cas looked at Sam, confusion in his eyes.

“Cas, uh just sit tight,” Sam said. “We have to deal with the bodies, we’ll be right back.”

Before Cas could argue, Sam was jogging after Dean. Cas sighed and relaxed into the seat.

***

One hour and a great deal of scrubbing later, Sam and Dean piled into the car. Cas was snoring quietly in the backseat. Dean exhaled as he relaxed into the driver’s seat. Sam managed to fold himself into the car, and as soon as his seatbelt clicked, Dean started the car. He flicked the headlights on, and pulled the Impala onto the road.

“Where to now?” Sam asked, leaning his head against the window.

“Bunker.”

Sam blinked in slight confusion. “You sure you’re good to drive?”

“Yeah,” Dean cleared his throat. “I got a few hours while you and Cas were in the coffee shop, and a bit before the whole,” Dean gestured with his hand, “you know.”

“You’re sure you don’t just want to stay another night here?” Sam prodded.

Dean nodded his head decisively. “Definitely.”

“I just don’t want you to regret-”

“Drop it, Sam,” Dean said harshly. “I just want to go home,” Dean’s voice softened. “We just need to go home.”

Sam nodded, deciding not to push it, and closed his eyes. Dean would talk if and when he was ready, and anyway, sleep didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

***

Dean pulled the Impala into the bunker’s garage, turning off the engine with a click. It had been a long night, but he had made good time. It was just after five a.m., the sun hadn’t even come up yet. Dean glanced in the rearview mirror to see Cas sitting up, he must’ve woken up when the car stopped. Sam, on the other hand, was still out like a light. Dean debated leaving him in the car, but decided to wake him up instead. All he needed was a disgruntled and disoriented moose wandering around the halls first thing in the morning.

“Sam,” Dean said, reaching out a hand to lightly jostle his brother awake. “Hey, Sammy.”

Sam shot up, grunting a little bit in confusion. “What,” he asked, voice still heavy with sleep. “What is it?”

Dean’s mouth turned up into a slight smile. “We’re home.”

Sam nodded and stumbled out of the car, tripping a couple times on his way inside. “Immagotobed,” Sam muttered, just loud enough to be heard, as he opened the door and disappeared into the bunker.

Quiet descended once again, and Dean realized he was left alone with Cas in the car. He pushed open his door, and climbed out into the cold air of the garage. Cas followed suit, and Dean realized he’d already managed to mojo his clothes back to normal. The small detail only managed to further irritate him.

Dean slammed the car door, not bothering to grab his bag out of the trunk, and headed toward the bunker’s door. A second later, Cas shut his door and hurried after Dean. The echo seemed deafening in the quiet room.

“Dean,” Cas started. “Wh-”

“Y’know, I’m pretty tired Cas,” Dean said as he made his way into the bunker. “I just drove five hours straight, and all I really wanna do is sleep.”

Dean rounded the corner, Cas hurrying behind him. “But, Dean,” Cas tried again.

Dean stomped faster, turning a corner to the hallway the led to their bedroom. “Not really in the mood, Cas.”

“Dean, we need to-” Cas stopped midsentence as the door slammed into his face. Had the situation been different, Cas might have just found another room in the bunker and stayed there overnight, waiting to talk to Dean until he had time to cool down.

Tonight, however, Cas wasn’t in the mood. He had been woken up early, stabbed, stitched, and drained most of his grace healing. All he wanted to do was crawl into _his_ bed with _his_ boyfriend in _his_ home. Cas pushed open the door with a bang. Dean was sitting on the bed, taking off his socks.

“What,” Cas seethed, “is your problem?”

Dean stood up and turned his back to Cas, shrugging off his flannel and tossing it onto the bed.

“What could I possibly have done to upset you?” Cas asked, anger evident in his voice. Dean unbuckled his belt, continuing to ignore Cas as he pulled it off. “Was it my being stabbed that you have a problem with?” Dean unzipped his jeans. “Was it my help spotting the shifter?” Dean slipped his jeans off. “Or perhaps it was my refusal to buy you yet another pastry?” Dean folded his pants neatly over the chair.

Cas was fuming. He had been nothing but helpful and caring all day and this, this was what he got? Castiel strode up to Dean in three shorts steps, grabbing him by his arm and turning him around. “You will show me respect when I am speaking to you.”

Castiel was surprised by the fire in Dean’s eyes, and even more by the venom in his voice when he spoke. “Why should I respect you,” Dean hissed through gritted teeth. “When you don’t bother to respect yourself.”

Cas was taken aback for a second, but recovered quickly, “I respect myself, Dean. I respect myself as much as I respect you.”

Dean barked out a cold laugh, pushing away from Cas. “That’s not a hell of a lot!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Cas yelled, “I respect you more than anything else that has ever and will ever be!”

“Then prove it!” Dean yelled. “Stop throwing yourself in front of every goddamn knife! Stop trying to be the hero! Stop hurting yourself in stupid ways that I can do absolutely nothing about!”

Cas stood still, staring at Dean in shock as he yelled.

“Do you know how hard it was to watch you pull that knife out of you and not be able to move fast enough to stop you? Do you? If Sam hadn’t gotten back as quickly as he had you could’ve bled out! I don’t care how much grace you had left, but I’m pretty sure not even you could save this vessel if it had no blood!” Dean was fuming as he continued. “You can’t keep doing this Cas! You can’t keep acting like nothing can hurt you! Goddammit! I can’t lose you again!” Dean’s voice broke on the last sentence. “I can’t lose you.”

Cas walked closer to Dean, until their faces were mere inches apart. “You haven’t lost me. I’m right here.”

Dean looked up into Castiel’s eyes. “Prove it.”

Cas crashed their lips together. The kiss was raw and hungry and needy. Dean groaned into the kiss, and Castiel backed him up until his knees hit the dresser. As their lips moved together, Castiel licked at Dean’s mouth. Dean gasped, giving Cas the opportunity to plunge his tongue into Dean’s mouth. As their tongues battled for dominance, Dean pushed his hands underneath Cas’s suit jacket, pushing both it and the trenchcoat onto the ground. Dean slid his hands down to Cas’s ass and pulled Castiel flush against him. Cas gasped as Dean ground against him, feeling their semi hard cocks slide together through the fabric.

“Bed,” Castiel growled.

Dean pushed Castiel backwards until they fell onto the bed. He propped himself up on his hands so he was hovering above Cas and looked down. Castiel looked absolutely debauched. His tie was loosened, and his shirt was rumbled. Pink tinged his cheeks, and his lips looked deliciously swollen. Somehow his hair had managed to become even more messed up.

“Dean,” Castiel exhailed in a breathy whine.

“What do you need?” Dean asked, leaning down to capture Castiel’s bottom lip between his teeth, pulling back lightly before releasing it. 

“You,” Castiel breathed.

Dean grinned. “I’m right here.” Dean leaned down far enough to grind is cock into Cas. “Can’t you feel me?”

“Dean,” Cas moaned, growing more impatient.

Dean leaned down to kiss and lick at the sensitive area behind his ear. “If you want me,” Dean said, kissing his way down Cas’s neck as he spoke, “tell me what you need.” Dean planted a final kiss on Cas’s collar bone before looking back up at Cas.

“I need you to fuck me Dean,” Cas said, his voice rasping. “I need you to make me yours in every sense of the word. I need to see your face as you fuck your cock into me hard enough that I’ll feel it for a week. I need you to make me come apart, and I need to watch as you do the same.”

Dean groaned, “Fuck.”

They crashed together again. Dean slid Cas’s tie off, as Cas slid his hands beneath Dean’s shirt.

“So good,” Cas mumbled into Dean’s mouth. “So good for me.” Cas ran his hand up Dean’s stomach, and brushed his thumb over Dean’s nipples. Dean gasped and arched into Cas. Cas continued to flick and pinch Dean’s nipples, while Dean unbuttoned and pushed Cas’s shirt to the ground. Cas finally pushed Dean’s shirt over his head, and looked at Dean. “Dean Winchester you are the sun. Blinding, yet so beautiful I dare not look away.”

Dean kissed Cas on the mouth, before kissing his way down Cas’s neck and collar bone to his nipples. Dean swirled his tongue gently around one of the pert buds, flicking the other with his thumb. Cas gasped and arched into the touch, gasping out Dean’s name. Dean looked up and grinned before switching to the other nipple. Cas moaned as Dean lavished the same amount of attention on the second nipple as he did to the first.

Dean continued and nipped his was down the hard plains of Castiel’s stomach, toward the zipper of his pants. He kissed the area above Castiel’s pants as he unbuttoned and unzipped them, helping Castiel to push them off onto the ground. Dean nuzzled Cas’s cock through his boxers before moving up to lick and bite at his hipbones. “Your hipbones are art; they could’ve been sculpted by Michelangelo.” Cas moaned and dragged Dean up to his mouth for another kiss.

“Lube,” Cas gasped against Dean’s mouth.

Dean moved away for a minute, and Cas could hear him fumbling for the lube in the side table. A second later, Dean was back, grinning triumphantly with the bottle. He slipped his thumbs under Cas’s boxers, and pushed them down his legs until Cas could kick them off. Cas’s cock sprung up against his stomach; hard, red, and leaking. Dean groaned at the sight. “You’re so beautiful.”

Cas smiled and rolled over, sticking his ass up in the air, waiting for Dean to start.

“Someone’s impatient,” Dean chuckled.

Cas glared and wiggled his ass slightly. “I wouldn’t have to be if someone would fuck me already.”

Dean rolled his eyes and stroked one finger up from the back of Cas’s balls over his puckered rim. Cas gasped at the contact. Dean grinned and leaned down, flattening his tongue and licking a long stripe over Cas’s hole. Cas moaned and pressed is face into the sheets.

“Dean, if you do not beginning prepping me right this instant, I will take the lube and do it myself.”

Watching Cas prep himself was always great, but tonight Dean wanted to do it himself. Dean flipped the cap open and squirted the lube onto his fingers, letting it warm up before pressing into Cas’s hole. The first finger slid in easy, and Cas moaned at the feeling. Dean worked slowly, waiting until he was sure Cas was ready before adding a second finger and scissoring them. At last Cas was lose enough for a third finger, and as Dean slid it in, Cas practically keened. Dean grinned, and suddenly crooked his fingers, brushing Cas’s prostate. Cas groaned and slumped into the pillows. Dean alternated between thrusting his fingers in and out a few times and crooking them up to press at the bundle of nerves.

“Dean, I’m ready.”

Dean groaned and shucked his boxers down. “Cas, roll over. I wanna see your face.” Cas complied as Dean jacked his cock a few times with his lube slicked fingers. Dean looked down at Cas’s lust blown eyes, and hooked one of Cas’s legs over his shoulder.

“Ready?” Dean whispered.

“Fuck yes.”

Dean pushed into Cas slowly, giving him plenty of time to adjust as he went. Soon enough, he was completely sheathed in Cas. Dean groaned and dropped his head onto Cas’s shoulder. “You’re so tight.”

“Dean, move.”

“Are you sure?” Dean asked.

“I swear if you don’t move right now, I’m flipping us over so that I’m in charge.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled out suddenly, pushed back into Cas, who moaned at the feeling.

“Faster. Harder.” Cas directed.

They set a fast pace. Dean grazing Cas’s prostate every few thrusts. Cas was writhing beneath Dean. “Dean, oh god yes. Oh there right there. Fuck. Yes!”

Dean gasped, “Cas, I don’t know how much longer I can…”

Cas nodded and reached down to grip his own cock. He stroked himself while he looked Dean in the eyes. Dean focused on nailing his prostate with every thrust. For a moment the only sound was their stuttering breathing.

“Dean, I-”

Dean nodded. “I know. Come for me baby. Castiel, come.”

That was all it took, Castiel came all over his hand and stomach. As his muscles squeezed Dean one more time, Dean came inside him, hot cum filling Castiel.

Dean collapsed on to Castiel’s chest, neither of them speaking. They lay there breathing for a while, until Dean eventually pulled out of Castiel, and padded into the bathroom, coming back with a damp washcloth to clean them up with. Dean tossed the comforter onto the ground, and crawled under the covers, pulling Cas with him.

Cas cuddled into Dean’s side, and Dean ran his fingers through Cas’s hair. The two laid in silence for a while, simply feeling each other breath. At last, Dean broke the silence.

“You know, when you were in purgatory, I used to sing.”

Castiel looked up at Dean. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Dean cleared his throat, “I needed to distract myself, y’know? You were gone, and I thought I’d failed you-”

“But you hadn’t,” Cas piped in.

Dean chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, Cas, I know. We’re passed that. But anyway, after I fixed up the Impala, I needed something else to do, so I found this old baby grand piano in the back room. I fixed it up, and remembered some of the stuff my mom taught me, so when I’d wake up from the dreams, some nights I’d go in there and played. Eventually learned some new stuff.”

Cas stared in rapt attention as Dean continued.

“Anyway. There was this one song I used to sing when I- when I thought I’d lost you. I played it so often I didn’t need the sheet music anymore.”

After a moment of silence, Cas asked, “Why don’t you ever play anymore?”

Dean shrugged. “You came back, things got busy. I wasn’t as angry anymore. The piano is still here.” Dean sighed wistfully, “She could probably use a tune-up.”

“You’ll have to play for me sometime,” Castiel said. Dean hmmed in response. After a few minutes of silence passed, Castiel spoke again. “Will you sing it for me?”

“What?” Dean asked.

“The song,” Castiel clarified. “Will you sing it for me?”

Dean thought for a second and swallowed, his throat bobbing as he nodded. Castiel closed his eyes and leaned closer to Dean, and the first line of music filled the air.

_“I know it’s over…”_


	3. But If I Cannot Have the Real Thing

Winter in Lawrence, Kansas hadn’t changed much over the past twenty years. There still rarely got over six inches of snow, there was still only one snow plow, and there was still a shortage of road salt. On this particular November morning, the local schools had all been shut down because of the snow. The gray sky and sparkling snow created an atmosphere of an unshakeable calm. Kids ran rampant through the town square, squealing in delight as they lobbed snowballs at one another or made snow angels. The few adults who had chosen to brave the weather hunched their shoulders against the cold as they hurried down the sidewalk.

It was slightly after twelve noon when the man appeared in town. His black business shoes crunched through the snow as he walked along the side of the road. Children whispered as he passed, and some ran to hide behind trees or older siblings. Everyone had heard the story of the trench coat angel, the man who never seemed to age. Tall, dark haired, and handsome, the stoic stranger was said to appear in town once a year. No one knew where he came from, and no one knew where he went. No one ever asked. The children gossiped over the legend at lunch, debating whether the angel was sent from heaven or hell, to bless or curse; as if he was nothing more than a campfire story.

The stranger continued walking, heading towards the outside of a town, his coat kicking up the snow. Children stared as he disappeared, before shrugging and returning to their games

Castiel continued past a row of houses, all closed up and silent against the cold. He paused in front of a gray-green two story house, a slight smile dancing on his lips. He couldn’t help but feel sentimental at the house. After all, he reasoned, it _was_ where it all began.

 Cold wind tickled Castiel’s face as he passed through the residential area. A few small shops littered the road, but Castiel continued on; none of them help any interest for him. He didn’t stop again until he got to a small, run-down auto shop. It almost looked abandoned, but Castiel knew it wasn’t. He walked to the back of the lot, taking the familiar path. There, covered in snow and rust, was a 1967 Chevrolet impala. A warm smile graced Castiel’s face.

“Hello, old friend,” Castiel’s deep voice cut through the silence. “It has been to long.”

The lot remained quiet, the only sound being the wind whistling through the broken down cars.

“I’m going to see him today.” Castiel continued. “I am sure you miss him. He misses you too. If only this were not necessary.”

Castiel brushed the snow off of the car’s roof, and placed his bare hand on the cold metal.

“Thank you for being a good home to him, to them both, when I could not be.” Castiel stood in silence for a few moments. Snow started to flurry around him, but Castiel paid it no mind. After a few minutes, Castiel removed his hand, and nodded tersely before walking away. “Thank you.”

Castiel exited the lot and continued down the silent road. Not a single car passed him, and the only sound was the crunch of Castiel’s shoes in the fresh snow. The seconds turned into minutes, and the minutes turned into hours. He didn’t stop until he arrived at a small gate on the outskirts of town.

The Lawrence cemetery was nothing special. No one famous was buried there, there were no large monuments, and the only haunting repeatedly reported was of an old woman trying to find her sewing pin. Castiel liked the Lawrence cemetery. Many of the stones were crumbling, it was always calm, and there were an abundance of bees in the spring. But most importantly, it was home.

Castiel made his way through the snow covered graves, until he reached the back corner, was a small headstone sat, completely untouched by the snow.

“Hello, Dean.”

Castiel sunk down onto the ground by the grave, pulling a couple of beers out of his coat and resting his head on the simple grave stone.

_D. Winchester,_ it read, _“I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell, but just coming to the end of his triumph.” b. 1979 d. 2022_

“I find I have been thinking of you more often,” Castiel says into the silence, “but perhaps that is normal. Sam and his wife are doing well. Mary has gotten so big. Sam insists that she call me Uncle Cas. I know he does not visit often, but I believe it is hard for him. I know you will forgive him when the time comes.”

A squirrel darted up a nearby tree. Castiel watched its progress until it disappeared out of sight.

“I miss you, Dean,” Castiel sighs into the cold air. “I had hoped I would have found a way to you by now but…” he trailed off. Cas reached down and grabbed his beer bottle, popping the top and taking a long sip.

“I am beginning to wonder if this is pointless. If it would just be easier to end this, to disperse into the universe,” Cas takes another sip, “but then I remember your face. Your freckles. The look in your eyes when you laugh. The way your nose would wrinkle when you got angry,” Cas chuckled slightly under his breath before sobering.

“But mostly, I remember your soul, and I cannot bear to never see it again.”

Castiel sat in silence for a few minutes. He closed eyes and shifted until he was mostly leaning on the headstone. Snow flurries fell and landed in his hair. A few landed on his eyelashes and ran like tears down his face. When the birds began to chirp, Cas began to softly hum, the melody floating through the air. Castiel licked his lips and began to sing.

“ _I know it’s over…”_


End file.
